


A Tasty Dish

by spikesgirl58



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-30
Updated: 2013-08-30
Packaged: 2017-12-25 03:05:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/947873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short and very silly and that's enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Tasty Dish

 

 

It was always the same – the small thrill that rolled through him, starting at the top of his head and ending with his toes.  So many years and this never failed to excite him in a way that very few other things ever did.

 

He smiled at the feeling beneath his fingertips, smooth, warm, welcoming, silky and slick. He licked his lips, already tasting what was ahead, anticipating that first moment.

 

Napoleon ran his fingers feather light over the tightly closed slit, slowly working his fingers in, gently, careful not to tear the tender, seemingly impossibly thin walls.   He eased first one finger in and then two, spreading, widening until he reached the second barrier.  It appeared so much more fragile than the other barrier, but Napoleon knew better.  Tender appearing and yet capable of great resilience and strength, even able to stand up to his thick fingered, often impatient partner.

 

“It’s good that I’m here first,” he murmured, prying apart the slick walls, working to spread the apart until all was ready - a bounty prepared to rush forth to greet him.

 

Napoleon held his breath, his arm shaking slightly, ignoring the sigh to his right.

 

“Patience, Illya, patience.  The anticipation is half of the pleasure.  Why rush when you don’t have to?”

 

“Napoleon…”  Illya elongated the second syllable just so that the man knew he was annoyed.

 

“It won’t be any less satisfying if you wait another thirty seconds and I assure you the prize is worth waiting for.”

 

He smiled over at the Russian as Illya rolled his eyes and held out his bowl, “Just pour the damn cereal, Napoleon.”


End file.
